Behold a Self Examination
by Words of Heresy
Summary: A History of Violence: Jack wasn't sure when it started; though he had a suspicion it might have been when he was waiting for Judy and staring at his socks. - SLASH Jack Stall/ Bobby Singer (rating for language only)


A/N: So I just watched A History of Violence and pretty much typed this up in 10 minutes. I had to! The more guys hate each other the more I want to slash them, its a sickness; someone call 911!

* * *

Jack wasn't sure when it started; though he had a suspicion it might have been when he was waiting for Judy and staring at his socks. They were wet (which wasn't unusual given the climate of the season) and had little bristles of dry leaves and twigs comically protruding from the brown fabric; white at the knees where the cotton remained dry. He watched his feet, swinging them mindlessly from side to side; let his eyes run up the length of his slim, smooth, feminine calves to a pair of tightly pressed together knobby knees, and further still to the goose bumped flesh of his furry thighs. Distractedly he mused on the evening's events. Two hours earlier he was all set to play soccer. Excited at the prospect of having PE as his last class of the day. He always liked sports, always top of the game in any variation. How he got blessed with athletic skills as well as perfect grades he didn't know, didn't care. Just preyed, studied and 'kept at it' as his father would say. This particular day was no different; Jack scored 6 perfect goals and got his team ahead by a mile before the bell rang. Jogged ahead to the lockers among the sea of high-fives and quickly grabbed his homework. Hazardously tossing it in the rucksack he jogged out just as the other students shuffled though the doors.

"Not gonna wait for us Stall?" drawled Bobby Singer. His personal bully, or at least Jack liked to think they were exclusive, after 11 years of intimidation and abuse a guy wants commitment you know?

"Nope gotta run, sorry Bobby."

"You get your little faggot-ass back here bitch, you hear me?"

Jack laughed but swung the door open with his foot.

"Sorry honey not tonight," he yelled out in a heavily put-on famine lilt, ""My little faggot ass requests a vacation"; he dashed, hearing a chorus of laughter as the door swung shut. That might have been the end of his day, but with Bobby things were never that 'simple', and less then 15 minutes later a very pissed of Bobby and his crew of buffoons cornered him on the corner of Pan and Madison, looking savage and ready to kill. Jack took it all in stride and sprung a heart-warming smile at his attackers.

"What can I do for you gentlemen?"

Bobby flushed red and prowled dangerously towards the smaller boy. He grabbed him by the front of his shirt and jerked him forward so their chests bumped painfully together.

"I asked you to wait."

"And I said I had to get going."

Bobby smirked; pulled back one fist and punched hard into Jack's stomach, the unsuspecting muscle there rippled before convulsing and throbbing in pain. Coughing but covering it quickly with laughter, Jack straightened and gave Bobby a salacious smile.

"Well if you wanted me that bad baby, all you had to do was say so."

Bobby shrunk back and looked ready to land another punch but a passing car revved around the corner and he backed of a couple of steps, looking murderous but cautions.

"Ok wimp enough shit from you. Take your shoes off. Now."

"What?"

"You heard me, I want you to walk through the mud all the way home. See how uppity you'll be when your socks are covered in cow shit faggot bitch."

Sighing at the immaturity of the concept but obeying in begrudging defeat, Jack carefully removed his runners and handed them over to the taller boy. Purposely grazing his knuckles against the underside of his wrist, Jack held the taller boys gaze and retracted his hand with intentional, heavy slowness, watching Bobby shuffle uncomfortably at the almost caress.

"A…Alright now march bitch. You aren't seeing these again."

"But I need them for sport Bobby darling. You wouldn't want me to loose my beautiful figure by sitting on my ass all day now would you honey-bun?"

Bobby cringed and socked him once more in the gut, then as an after thought pushed him hard in the chest. By unforeseen chance of misfortune a puddle had gathered behind the blonde; it sprayed around his ass like a fountain. Bobby and his gang laughed and stumbled away still hooting and hollering long after they disappeared from the blonde's sight. A rather disgruntled Jack picked himself up from the mud, and made for home.

* * *

So that's how he ended up walking 7km in his socks; feet freezing from the wet grass and dirt of the country road. However it left him with enough time to think. Touching Bobby, however briefly, had left him with a sinking feeling in his lower gut. Whether it was poor digestion or coagulation of blood; a feeling like that made him suddenly aware of how hot the other boy looked. Considering he knew Singer from diapers, it might be noted as a strangely late realisation on his behalf. Still as he plunked himself on the edge of the fence to wait for Judy, Jack was struck with a feeling of burning desire for Singers touch; his punches, his abuse. Fuck, figures he would be a masochist.

A small black dot on the horizon revealed that Judy had turned the corner on Powell St and was a good 15 minutes away. Unable to hold in this exciting self-discovery any longer, Jack jumped from the fence and ran as fast as his frozen feet let him.


End file.
